


Missed Connections

by sittingonyourfloor



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Avatar (Avatar TV), Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Drama, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Korrasami - Freeform, Romance, Same World Though, not quite modern
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sittingonyourfloor/pseuds/sittingonyourfloor
Summary: "Suddenly, she was mere weeks away from eighteen and accepted to RCU, the only school she ever wanted to go to, and for the second time, her whole life was turned upside down, shredded to bits, and completely outlined for her without any input from the person living it."Asami Sato (well, Osaku) would have loved nothing more than to be just another college student who happened to like inventing and so far she's succeeded, even if it means feeling a little alone. But when a clumsy encounter involving a latte, a pretty pair of blue eyes, and a write-up in RCU's most talked about newsletter introduces Asami to what anonymity could cost her, she takes another look at how her life is turning out. Meanwhile, a threat along the United Republic's border is growing, and nobody will be prepared for what their choices could cost.
Relationships: Bolin/Opal (Avatar), Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 21
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started as a joke about those personal ads people can take out if they were too shy or missed an opportunity to talk to each other, but then turned into what's shaping up to be about 100k words with a couple chapters left and has started to feel like a response to the general state of life at the moment. Also trying to challenge myself to write a multi-chapter fic that actually makes sense for once.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know very little of mechanics or physics or high-level math, I'm just a librarian who did some research and crossed my fingers. For anyone who reads those sections and wants to scream, I'm sorry. Also, the setting is very a-temporal. Not quite modern, but not easy to place either. Cellphones exist, cellphone apps as we know them don't, the news isn't at everyone's fingertips, something like that.

What was it about the coffee kiosk in the library that was so comforting? Was it the smell of roasting beans mingling with cinnamon, chocolate, and high levels of stress? Was it the sounds of steam and the whirs of mixers, the clatter of ice being scooped or the sweet sound of hot liquid being poured expertly into paper cups to be doled out to the ravenous, glazed-looking college students desperate for just a taste of caffeine before they stumbled back down the rabbit hole that was education?

It was Asami’s favorite place on campus. Okay, her second favorite place. Or her tied favorite place? The coffee kiosk and the mech-lab are completely different entities, but the feel was the same. Friendly, familiar, nothing to startle--

“Hey, listen to this one!”

Asami jumped as Opal broke her from her reverie more loudly than anyone had a right to be in the library, even if it was in the “Less Quiet” section. The girl had flung her hand out to get Asami’s attention, her eyes glued to a slightly crumpled paper in her hand. 

“Opal!” Asami warned, trying to steady her voice, “If this is another one of those Missing Links, I swear to Raava…”

“It’s _Missed Connections_ , Asami. Come on, just humor me?”

“I’ve been humoring you for the last hour,” Asami said as the two of them walked over to the counter at the kiosk, their two favorite stools sitting delightfully empty on this quiet, drizzly Friday afternoon. Asami hung her backpack on one of the hooks beneath the counter, dropped her umbrella at her feet, and slid gratefully onto the stool. Life was just a little less like a winding, endless hole now that midterms were over, but this week had felt like slogging through half-baked mud and Asami wanted nothing more than to grab this drink with Opal and then curl up under her blankets with a good nothing-close-to-academic book for the night.

Meanwhile, Opal clambered onto her stool and immediately spun to face her friend, her green eyes wide and her mouth in a textbook pout. “Just _one_ more, Sams? Please?”

Asami rolled her eyes. “After--”

“Yay!”

“ _After_ I order my drink,” she said firmly, spinning Opal’s stool back to facing behind the counter. 

She recognized the barista from the curly back of the head immediately. Bolin was a sophomore like Opal, and he’d been working at the kiosk since he started school at Republic City University. He worked the graveyard shift at least three times a week, so he and Asami had become well-acquainted given what Bolin took to calling her “wolfbat study habits.” And she may have gone out on a few dates with his older brother, the last of which had ended disastrously on this very stool with Bolin somehow producing some really awful cream liqueur to mix into her drink and telling her that he wouldn’t date Mako either. 

Bolin grinned when he looked over his shoulder and waved at Asami and Opal before going back to finishing the couple drinks he was making.

“Okay, can I just tell you now while we’re waiting? It’s short, I swear!”

Unable to help herself, Asami rolled her eyes again. “Fine. But this is the last one until tomorrow. No doubt another one of these newsletters will come out.” _If not later tonight,_ Asami thought grumpily.

This stupid newsletter had popped up overnight last week after someone set up decorated plastic boxes all over campus with little slips of paper and pencils attached. According to Opal, all you had to do was write down your “lost contact” or whatever had happened, and they would show up in the newsletter later. Nobody knew who was doing it or how they possibly had so much time on their hands and the stealth ability to never be caught taking the paper from the boxes. Asami was convinced they were just making things up at this point. Even so, she could see one of the boxes from here, this one blue with white polka dots all over it, and the paper slip level had definitely gone down from overnight. 

Opal nodded enthusiastically and then cleared her throat, which Asami was sure was for dramatic effect. “So it says, ‘Saw you longboarding on the quad this morning. Nice legs. If you want a smoother ride, hit me up.’” 

For a second, they just looked at each other, Opal looking ridiculously proud of reading this out loud. “And?” Asami finally asked. 

“No, that’s it.”

“Wait? What’s even the point then? That’s literally the least identifiable, not to mention kind of skeevy, post. You can’t,” Asami made mocking air quotes, “‘ _hit them up’_ if you don’t have any more information to go on. There must be dozens of people on the quad at any time. Not to mention, we have three quads! I thought the point of this was supposed to be to actually help people _make_ these connections.”

Opal sighed, propping her chin on top of her folded arms on the counter. “You’ve got no romance in you,” she groaned.

Before Asami could reply (although what she would say was beyond even her, there was no arguing with Opal when they fundamentally disagreed on this topic), Bolin slid over to them. “Asami not romantic? That’s a new one.”

“Very funny,” said Asami, balling up a loose napkin and chucking it at him. Bolin caught it and blindly threw it behind him, landing it in the trash can. 

“Anyway,” he said casually, as if anyone could be that accurate, “what’s for drinking today? Scratch that, _medium chai latte with soy milk, make it hot and you never add enough cinnamon so let me do it myself_. Opal, what are _you_ having?”

Opal scrunched up her face in thought while Asami nodded in approval. It had almost been three semesters of the same drink order with Bolin, but he pulled the charade of guessing most of the time. On Tuesdays, when Asami ran in the library and out again between her afternoon class and her lab, Bolin just had her drink ready to go along with a passable attempt at how much cinnamon should go in it and a baggy of extra spice. 

On the other end of the spectrum, Opal had never ordered the same drink twice. Once she had ordered every drink on the menu hot, she moved on to every drink iced, and then to every bottled drink. For the last month, she had been ordering different combinations of nine flavors of tea, but the options were beginning to run a little low. Asami hadn’t asked yet, but she was guessing that all tea combinations iced were the next on Opal’s list.

“Hmm…” Opal scrutinized the tea boxes closely. “Okay, let’s go with a medium hot tea, one ginger tea bag, one raspberry tea bag, three honey packets.”

“Do you have a list somewhere where you keep track of what you’ve ordered before?” Bolin asked as he grabbed the tea bags Opal had asked for and began to make their drinks. 

Opal smirked. “A simple question won’t convince me to reveal my secrets, Bolin.”

Shrugging as he poured hot water into Opal’s cup, Bolin replied, “Hey, can’t blame a guy for asking. Speaking of which, why did you only just discover Asami’s not romantic?”

“Hey!” Asami protested.

Both of her friends ignored her. “She’s been all snooty since last week about RCU’s _Missed Connections_ ,” Opal said, errantly waving her hand as if she was dismissing the notion. 

“Oh yeah, someone always leaves a few stacks lying around here whenever a new issue comes out. Haven’t seen them do it though, guess no one has,” said Bolin as he put a lid on Opal’s drink and slid it over to her. He paused to scratch something down on his order pad, then looked back up at her. “Did you see the one today about the longboard guy?”

Opal grinned as she passed him her ID card while Asami groaned. “Not you too!”

Bolin shrugged again, handing Opal back her ID and getting started on Asami’s drink. “Hey, there’s a fad every semester. And your bro Bo likes to be in the know!” He waggled his eyebrows proudly at the last line. Opal giggled, Asami rolled her eyes. 

“I really hope that isn’t the kind of work you hand in for your poetry class,” she said.

“Could you do better?”

“Probably not. But I’m also not a Lit major.”

“Touché,” said Bolin, grabbing a lid for Asami’s steaming latte, “though I would take essay writing over the eighty-seven midterms you had this week any day.”

Asami traded Bolin her ID for her drink and drew in deep breath, basking in the rich, spicy chai scents with the gentle overtures of soy. This is exactly what she had been waiting for. A little cinnamon (okay, a lot more than a little) and it would be the epitome of perfection. The shining bookend on this horrible week. The start to a quiet, rejuvenating weekend. She smiled her thanks at Bolin when he handed her back her ID, stowing it away in the pocket attached to her phone. 

“I’ll be right back,” she told Opal, twisting around her stool so that she could go over to the other side of the kiosk and add her copious cinnamon in. 

Holding her cup close to her, enjoying how the heat felt against her cold hands, Asami got off the stool and headed towards the counter in the back corner where the spices and straws were. It was a little pathetic that having this drink in her hands had relaxed her so much, but Asami honestly couldn’t care, hot drinks were the perfect comfort. 

_Maybe I’m spending a little too much time around Bolin_ , she thought amusedly, looking over her shoulder to see Bolin and Opal still talking animatedly. _Probably about that stupid newsletter..._

WHAM!

Asami’s cup exploded all over her as she collided with another student, drenching her front and her hands in the steaming hot liquid.

“Spirits, I’m so _so_ sorry!” 

For a moment, all Asami did was stand frozen in the middle of the now silent kiosk, arms held out from her sides, dripping in extra-hot latte, looking at the remains of her cup now at her feet along with the small bit of the drink that hadn’t made it onto her body.

“I’m so sorry!” the same voice said again, and Asami looked up to see a girl with astonishing blue eyes and short, brown hair sporting a terribly panicked expression. “Here, can I--”

_This is silk, she’s really pretty_ , Asami thought inexplicably as she watched the girl whip around and tear a handful of napkins out of the closest dispenser before turning back and reaching for her. 

Then, everything that just happened came back to her and Asami’s world went from slow-motion and silent to unbelievably fast and loud in an instant. “Don’t. Touch me! _”_ she shouted. She was shaking. Everyone was staring. The latte was hot, stinging where it had spilled and making her shirt cling to her like a second burning skin. Reaching down, Asami peeled it off of where it stuck to her stomach and chest. She wanted to move. She had legs, she _could_ move. But she just stood, every eye staring at her, shaking and soaked in chai latte in the middle of the kiosk. She didn’t even know how to speak again.

“Please, I’m sorry, I just want to...” the girl trailed off but offered up the clump of napkins she held in her first.

“Thanks,” Opal’s voice sounded beside Asami. Her friend put a soft hand on her shoulder and started to steer Asami away; somehow her legs were operating again. “Do you want to get another drink or do you just--?”

Asami’s voice had restarted too, albeit much softer. “No, no,” she told Opal, “I just want to go. Please.”

Wordlessly, Opal guided Asami out of the kiosk and out of the library. It was raining more heavily now. Opal threw her hood over her head, walking out, then looked to Asami who had only worn a leather jacket and was already standing in the rain. “Oh, shit! Your umbrella! Let me run back.”

Before she could do more than start to turn, Asami grabbed Opal’s wrist. “No, please, it’s fine. I just want to go,” she said again, “please.”

For a second, Opal regarded her as if she wanted to argue. Nevertheless she nodded, the hood falling into her eyes as she did. “Okay, come on then, I’ll walk you over.”

~

It was strange, Asami thought, at how dichotomous hot liquid pouring onto your body could be. Being drenched in a steaming hot chai latte? Awful. Standing in the shower and letting the water steam up the stall and cascade over your body? Comforting. 

Asami stood in the shower long after she had finished washing her body. The showers in her dorm all had tiled walls with differing shades of green tiles interspersed throughout the majority of white ones. She stared at each shaded tile in turn as the shower kept running. Her normally curled hair hung limp around her face and the stinging on her skin that had accompanied the spilled latte had long since dissipated. Everything was done and over with. No permanent damage besides the lost latte and her ruined shirt. 

Things like that happen all the time in college and everyone would forget, yet Asami still felt like leaving the shower would mean leaving safety permanently. Which made no logical sense, even to her. But she couldn’t stop replaying the scene in her head. 

Why had she shouted? Why couldn’t she have just said “ow, hey, it’s okay,” and walked off like a normal human would? Why couldn’t she ever just walk it off? Why did she always have to overreact? 

Little things to other people startled her and made her jump. She hated loud places and silent places and unexpected things. Unfortunately, unexpected things always seemed to happen in college, regardless of how hard someone tried to avoid them.

Mild embarrassment was one of those things and people _did_ forget over time, but Asami still remembered that time freshman year where this senior, Ryu, had tried to do the sneaky walk of shame out of one of her hallmates’ dorms only be be caught by his actual girlfriend...another one of Asami’s hallmates. The ensuing argument -- brawl, really -- took three RAs to get it under control. Nobody really mentioned it anymore, and Asami didn’t speak to anyone from her freshman hall, but she definitely remembered that morning and remembered Ryu. 

She didn’t want to be Ryu. Moreso, she didn’t want that blue-eyed girl to be Ryu. 

Ryu was an idiot, and Asami would be lying if she didn’t think that Ryu kind of deserved to be remembered. But that girl didn’t do anything wrong, not on purpose. Now she was probably freaked out and even if Asami wanted to apologize, would the girl even want to talk to her after what happened? People don’t like being shouted at, Asami was well aware of that. 

The door to the bathroom banged open and Asami heard another girl clacking her flip flops across the floor. _Okay, time to get out_ , she thought, seriously interested in avoiding any interaction tonight. Not that anyone in her dorm ever did interact. 

She turned off the water and reached from behind the shower curtain to grab her towel and dry off before she pulled on her crimson bathrobe.

Whoever the other occupant was squeaked the first curtain of her shower stall open and closed again as Asami stepped out of the shower and traded her towel for her robe, staring at the other curtain in front of her. She loved her dorm for the most part. It was an all singles dorm and was by far the quietest dorm on campus, but no actual doors in the shower stalls had always felt out of place for a bunch of people who tended to stick to themselves. Opal’s older brother, Huan, actually lived in the dorm too, but Asami hadn’t run into him so far this semester. Or really anyone else. As far as Huan was concerned, she wasn’t actually sure if he truly existed or was a figment of Opal and her siblings’ imagination.

_Well, it’s only halfway over,_ she thought indifferently, _maybe this year is different and I’ll actually run into someone in the halls._

Spraying water sounds signaled the start of the other girl’s shower while Asami stowed her belongings in her caddy, draped her towel over her arm, and shuffled out of the bathroom and down the empty hallway to the far corner room. 

Cranefish Hall was a three-story, hollow rectangle. Small, single dorm rooms lined the outside of the building on every floor, while the inside housed the two flights of stairs on parallel sides, and floor-to-ceiling windows on every side. In the middle of Cranefish was a small garden where the RAs attempted to hold floor events and movie nights that nobody ever attended. Asami had lived in Cranefish sophomore year as well and both years the event flyers stopped by October. The top floor rooms, where Asami lived, had shed ceilings that made each room feel cozy and protected. Asami’s room faced out over the Quad, a huge green space in between most of the lower campus dorms. 

One of those dumb was taped underneath her room number. They were always there whenever a new one was released. Asami ripped it off and crumpled it in a ball.

“Did they mean this quad?” Asami muttered to herself as she unlocked her door and went inside. 

Frowning as she stowed her shower caddy away, Asami shook her head. _Stupid Missing Connectivities_. What a silly idea. She chucked the crumpled up paper in the bin, momentarily smirking when it landed inside but immediately picking up a frown again. 

That message Opal told her about was completely ridiculous. There were _THREE_ quads! The Quad (her quad), the Academic Quad, and the Upper Quad. All of them were perfectly good for longboarding, people were on them every morning... _if you want to connect with someone, you better actually make it possible to identify yourself!_

Shaking her head again, Asami flopped sideways on her bed, blindly reaching up by her pillow for her phone. 

Holding it above her head, she stared at the small screen.

_Wait,_ how _many missed calls?_ Asami nearly dropped her phone on her face. 

Before she could do more than see the number, the perpetrator of this outrageous panic called again. 

“ _Opal,_ what in the Fog is--”

“Asami! You have to hear this!” Opal spat out without breathing.

“Opal, if this is another Lost Translation--”

“No! No! Well, yes. It is! But you have to read it _right now_!”

“But I don’t--”

“BUT IT’S ABOUT YOU!”

Asami shot up from the bed, nearly sliding off of it. “ _What?_ ”

She punched the button to turn Opal onto speakerphone before frantically scrambling from the bed and diving for the ball of paper in her wastebin. Opal was babbling on about “crazy” and “how wild” and “of all the people,” but Asami barely heard her over the blood rushing in her ears. 

It seemed to take forever to un-ball the paper, but must have only taken one Opal-breath though because by the time Asami got it flattened out and scanned the paper as fast as she could, Opal was finishing by saying, “and I just can’t believe it, but it’s definitely her and you! You are reading it, right?”

Asami didn’t answer. She was staring at the little navy italic text outlined in a gray box (RCU colors), the paper trembling in her hands.

_Not as much of a connection as a missed apology. I am so, so, so sorry for what happened in the library, Green Eyes. I feel so awful. Please, if you see this, can I make it up to you? I’ll be at the scene of the crime during wolfbat time. Hope you’re okay. -K_

“Asami? Asaaaami! Asami, you’re gonna go right?”

“ _Wolfbat time?_ ” Asami eked out, feeling her throat constricting. 

“Yeah, what is that anyway?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the response to the first chapter! Hope this one continues to hold your interest!

Insane. This was literally the most insane thing that she could possibly be doing. 

Asami was pacing her dorm room, occasionally gesturing with the one shoe in her hand, as she beat a circle around the floor and glanced at her alarm clock every time she passed the nightstand. _11:50, ten minutes_ , she thought apprehensively. 

The scene in the dorm room had been played out over and over again since Asami got out of her shower. She had to go. She had to. Hadn’t she just been thinking about the fact that she wanted to apologize to this girl, this K? Now K handed her the opportunity on a silver platter ( _more like on a zinc platter, given that it was through Dropped Calls_ ), so she seriously had to go. 

“But do I really have to go?” she whined to no one, waving the shoe around. 

She was mostly dressed. Between pacing and the numerous times that she had stopped and re-read the little message, just to be absolutely certain it was real and still there, she had pulled together an outfit of burgundy jeans and a thick black sweater. Her hair was dry and hung in its normal loose, gentle curls. She had clipped up the bit that always fell in her face. 

However, with each addition to the outfit and each minute closer to when K said she’d be in the library, Asami had tried to talk herself out of going. She didn’t need a pity party from this girl just because she overreacted to some spilled tea. The whole point of leaving the kiosk immediately and the extra long shower was to get over some of the embarrassment and not become another Ryu to a bunch of students. 

Now anyone who was there who read the newsletter (so, everyone) and remembered what K was talking about would know. They would remember how Asami freaked out over nothing after she had tried so hard for the past five semesters to keep every bit of herself carefully composed and under control. What if they remembered what she looked like? What if the story spread across campus like wildfire or something highly contagious and everyone knew who she was? What if half the university was waiting in the library to see if she showed up?

Asami stopped pacing, her heartbeat accelerating, and grabbed paper off her desk, scanning the message again. _Wolfbat time_. Only one other person at RCU knew what that was. He also knew her name and, seemingly, he knew K. 

If K had talked to Bolin and learned all of this, why hadn’t she just used Asami’s name in the message? 

“Is that the point?” Asami asked out loud. 

Anonymity? Keeping any prying eyes from trying to figure out what this mystery post was about? Nobody else knew the time, or her name, or even what the real scene of the crime was. Asami smiled. That was actually really thoughtful.

She glanced at her clock. 11:55. Taking a deep breath, Asami sat down on her bed and pulled her shoes on. Just as she finished with the second, her phone rang. 

“What, Opal?”

Opal was panting on the other end, the white noise in the background of her call made it sound like she was running. “Asami! I know - you’re still in - your room!”

“The library’s only a two minute walk away!”

The white noise stopped. “O-oh? Wait, you’re really going?”

“I just put my shoes on,” Asami told her, standing up and walking over to her desk to grab her room keys. Asami looked at herself in the mirror attached to her door. _Should I put my contacts back in?_

“Oh. Cool! This is exciting!” Opal said happily. Outside Asami’s window, someone shouted to their friend, no doubt on their way to a party like most students would be. The shout echoed from her phone as well.

She glanced toward the window, squinting into the night. “Opal, did you run all the way to my dorm to check if I had left?”

“Uh...listen, I’ll talk to you later! Tell me how it goes, bye!” 

Rolling her eyes, Asami stowed her phone in her small bag and took one last look in the mirror. No contacts, real wolfbat time was glasses time. It wasn’t as if she was trying to impress K or anything, not really.

Asami took another deep breath, and, seeing that her alarm clock now read 11:58, flicked off her lights and headed out the door. 

~

The reasoning for studying late at night was two-fold. First, Asami never slept well. Having a small single dorm and being on the top floor helped, but she still usually struggled to relax her mind before well after midnight. It was pointless to lay in bed uselessly during that time, so freshman year she had started studying in the library some nights until closing. It freed up some of her time during the day to get other things done, and she never felt like she was squandering time away. 

Second, the stillness of campus at night was calming. Not unnerving like other places could be in the dark. RCU was on the edge of Republic City and was more of a bubble than a campus interspersed throughout the city like Ba Sing Se University. Tonight, though, it was a little rowdier given that it was the Friday after midterms. Asami passed several knots of people while walking through the Quad, and ended up taking a side path along the flank of the library to avoid running into a particularly giggly group of girls who swayed en masse as they walked. _It’ll be worse next weekend_. The weekend of All Spirits’ Day was the worst for parties. Even Cranefish got more lively than usual during that weekend last year (by which Asami meant that two people used the bathroom at the same time as her). 

Opal had invited Asami out with some of her friends, but she politely declined per usual. She also had an invitation from Kuvira, her only other close friend on campus besides Opal (and Bolin, kind of) to go out with her friends. They’d had all four classes together their first semester and, as Kuvira said, life would have sucked a lot if they hated each other so the only other option was to be friends. Plus, Opal and Kuvira were sisters. She loved Kuvira, and her other friends had always been really nice -- Asami was even a silent observer at their dinners sometimes and once at a mover night -- but going out to an All Spirits’ Day party was where she drew the line.

Asami walked up the front steps and swiped her ID to get into the library. Once inside, she hung a left to the coffee kiosk, which looked completely deserted except for Bolin. Her heart unexpectedly sank and she pushed her glasses up her nose as she walked to the counter.

“Hey, you’re here!” Bolin greeted her when he looked up from his organizing, a Friday night ritual.

Asami nodded and opened her mouth to ask for her drink, thinking she would just take it back to her room. “Already taken care of,” Bolin said. He pointed over to the far corner booth. “Go enjoy. I think you guys will get along.”

Looking at the booth, Asami saw that she had been mistaken. Potentially imagining it, it seemed like even from far away, she could see the girl’s now familiar blue eyes. K grinned and motioned for Asami, who suddenly felt very warm, to come over. With a glance back at Bolin who briefly nodded, she walked over to the back.

“Hi,” the girl said once Asami made her way over, still smiling. She pushed one of the two drinks on the table toward her. “One medium chai latte with soy milk, extra hot,” she announced, then sliding over a container, “cinnamon on the side because Bolin said I wouldn’t get it right if I added it for you. Oh, and a cranberry muffin. I didn’t know what kind of muffins you liked, but you seem to like red so I thought, cranberry.”

“Not pistachio?” Asami asked, smiling shyly and sitting opposite from the girl, who cocked her head. “You know, because of the Green Eyes thing?”

“Oh! Right! Listen, I’m really really sorry about that. I totally did not look where I was going. Are you okay? I feel like an idiot. I completely panicked afterwards -- like you can’t just dump an entire hot drink on a person and pretend it never happened. And I literally had no idea who you were and Bolin said about _Missed Connections_ so I took a chance and stuck a note in that box over there since, like, the whole school reads that newsletter now. But I didn’t want to embarrass you or identify us so that’s where the Green Eyes came from even though Bolin told me your name and he also told me about your inside joke and...yeah. I’m really, really sorry, Asami. Oh, and I’m Korra, by the way, hi.”

Korra said all of this information very quickly and emphatically, with a lot of hand gestures that were borderline mesmerizing for Asami to watch. She took a second afterwards to compute all of the information that had just been thrown before nodding and giving Korra another smile. 

“Hi back,” she said, “and thanks. For the drink and the apology. I’m really sorry I shouted at you before, I’m usually a little quieter than that. I just...suck when I get startled.” She reached for her drink and the cinnamon shaker, unscrewing the lid and beginning to pour her not-safe-for-human-consumption amount of spice into it.

“No need to apologize, that must have been kind of painful,” said Korra. “You like your drink super hot by the way, is your family from the Fire Nation or something?”

“Some of them were, but a long time ago,” Asami replied, “I was born in Republic City, though you could barely call me a native. What about you?”

“Southern Water Tribe, from Harbor City. Although now it doesn’t really feel like a city compared to all this. College was the first time I ever left the South Pole and I had no idea how big buildings could get. I’m a junior now and I’m still not used to it.”

“I’m a junior too,” Asami said before taking a sip of her drink, “what’s your major?”

“History. Bolin said you’re an Engineering major?”

“Mechanical engineering, yeah. I like… _things_.” Asami grimaced at her lame finish. In all her time at RCU, nobody had ever known who she was or who her family was. Future Industries was one of the largest business conglomerates in the nations, widely known for their Satomobiles, which were named, perhaps a bit egotistically, after the Satos who founded, and still ran, the company. _Perhaps_ , Asami amended, bitterness clouding her thoughts. 

She had never wanted to be CEO, had barely interacted with the company even when her father was all she had left. Then suddenly, she was mere weeks away from eighteen and accepted to RCU, the only school she ever wanted to go to, and for the second time, her whole life was turned upside down, shredded to bits, and completely outlined without any input from the person living it. 

So here she was at RCU, Asami Y. Osaku, just another local who came to study at RCU before she sought out her fortune in the world who was expected to graduate and fully take over the company that two weeks ago made a forty-seven billion yuan deal to design the first-ever high-speed rail connecting the Fire Nation to Republic City. Right now, she was more of a begrudging observer and occasional approver of projects.

“Things?” Korra chuckled, waggling her eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Asami said, “cars, mostly. But I’ll take anything apart and rebuild it if I can get my hands on something new.”

“Latest project?”

Asami grinned. “I’m building a medical drone!” she said excitedly, “Well, I’m in the planning stages. I’ve never done something from scratch before, but last week I made a small-scale prototype and got it up for the first time with my friend Opal! I think the propellers need a few adjustments, but they’re way better than when I first started and they kept nicking each other so -- sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all this.” Asami’s face felt warm. Somehow, Korra was a lot easier to talk to than most people. Maybe it was because she hadn’t looked bored yet. Even after Asami stopped talking, Korra looked genuinely disappointed she hadn’t heard more and confirmed that a second later. 

“No, no, that sounds really cool! Tell me more about it!”

They slipped into surprisingly easy conversation about the drone. Korra admitted she was not a science person at all, but hung onto every word Asami said about propellers, resistance, thrust, and everything else she could possibly say about her project.

“That’s really neat, Asami, I’ve never met someone who built a medical drone...or a drone at all, come to think of it. Oh, also is your friend Opal Beifong?” Asami nodded. “Yeah? Funny, I’m on the swim team with her twin brothers. Well, kind of, I’ve only practiced a few times with them before,” she gestured to her right knee, which Asami realized for the first time was in a brace, “no swim season for me it seems. Completely busted up my knee. But anyway, we’re pretty good friends. They weren’t those bigshot freshmen that think they’re amazing, they’re cool. Oh, I also think I live in the same dorm as the older Beifong brother -- Huan? There’s a lot of them here, though I’ve never seen Huan. I kind of think he’s made up, to be honest.”

Asami was planning to ask Korra exactly how a swimmer could injure their knee, but instead did a double take and said incredulously, “Wait, you live in Cranefish?”

“You do too?” Asami nodded. “Wait, I’m second floor, what about you?”

“Third,” Asami said, “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before.”

“Be honest,” said Korra, starting to laugh, “have you ever seen _anyone_ in Cranefish before?”

Asami laughed with her, shaking her head. Before she could ask her original question after the laughter subsided, Bolin descended on the table. 

“See, Asami,” he said immediately, “ _Missed Connections_ isn’t all that bad! It worked here. Also, here’s your umbrella.”

“Ugh, no,” Korra responded before Asami could say anything, “it’s still horrible! I mean, you can’t even respond to people or, you know, actually meet them. Nobody gives contact information -- what’s the point?”

“Exactly!” said Asami, brandishing the umbrella she had taken from Bolin. “Wait, if you don’t like it, why did you send the message to me through there?”

Korra shrugged. “I didn’t know how else to get in contact with you. It was kind of a longshot. But everyone reads it now, either you or someone you know would have seen it, right? And you did.”

“But you talked to Bolin,” Asami reasoned. She turned to Bolin, now pointing the umbrella his way, “You told Korra about wolfbat time, didn’t you? Why didn’t you just give her my number?”

“You have her number?” Korra echoed, now glaring at Bolin. 

A look of realization dawned on Bolin’s face. “Ohhh...right! I did! I mean, I do...have her number. Wow, that would’ve been easier, huh?”

“Easier? I only had to go digging through my trash for Lost Relations because Opal called me about Korra’s message!”

Korra snorted. “Lost Relations?” 

“Whatever it’s called. It’s weird.”

Bolin cleared his throat. “Weird or not, this proves it works! Also, kiosk’s closing up shop for the night so I actually came over to give you the boot. And a box since you didn’t eat your muffin.”

Mumbling their thanks, Asami and Korra both shuffled around gathering up their things. Korra handed off their empty cups to Bolin, who offered to take them when he did his trash run out back and waved them off for the night. 

“Guess we’re walking back together,” Korra said as they left the kiosk, the lights darkening behind them. She held the door open for Asami to step out into the chilly night air. Artificial light reflected off the asphalt, still wet from the afternoon rain. Far off, Asami heard people shouting to their friends, no doubt moving on to another party or stumbling home to rest up before the next night kicked off. 

Taking the path down the side of the library, the girls walked in slow, companionable silence.

“So how _did_ you injure your knee?” Asami finally asked as they turned down the path to the Quad. Korra was surprisingly quick for someone in a knee brace and she guessed the injury was several weeks old.

The girl made a sound somewhere between hesitancy and grimace. “You’re gonna laugh,” she said.

“I won’t,” said Asami. When Korra still looked uncertain, Asami reached over and took her hand, “Hey, look, I won’t laugh. You didn’t laugh at me about freaking out over the spilled chai.”

She caught Korra’s gaze underneath one of the lamps that lit the walk up to Cranefish; it was still the most brilliant blue color Asami had seen. She hummed in response to Asami’s words. “Thanks,” she said, smiling and squeezing Asami’s hand, “and sorry. I’ve taken some flack for getting injured, just poking fun I guess, but it gets to you after a while, you know?” 

Asami nodded. “Anyway,” Korra continued, starting to walk again with Asami next to her, “I was running late to my Astronomy class after practice one night, thought I was being _super cool_ , and hopped over the rails of the ramp out of the building to get there faster. Ramp turned out to have a hole in between the two levels that dropped a lot further down and I just landed and completely wiped out. Next thing you know, I’m on my way to the health center. Never made it to class and I’m basically out for the season. Coach was not happy.” 

At this, Korra frowned and Asami felt a strong wave of sympathy for her. It had been less two hours since they met, but Asami could already tell how genuine and caring Korra was. _She must feel like she’s let her whole team down_. 

They had reached Cranefish’s entrance, which opened into a large commonspace with lounge furniture nobody ever used and a kitchen for anyone brave enough to try and cook. The floor was made up of angularly-cut pieces of slate, while the back wall was made entirely of glass, looking into the center garden area. To the left and right were identical hallways, each leading to one of Cranefish’s two staircases. 

“Well, here we are,” Korra said. “This might be the first time two Cranefish residents have ever been next to each other inside the building!” She smiled crookedly at her declaration, waggling her eyebrows.

Asami couldn’t help but laugh, whether it was at the joke or how ridiculous Korra looked, she wasn’t sure. Instinctively, she squeezed her hand around the one she was holding, only then realizing she was still holding Korra’s hand. 

“Oh, um,” Asami jumped when she realized what she had done and dropped Korra’s hand, feeling her face warm, “sorry.”

“N-no, it’s okay,” said Korra. “Hey, are you near staircase or far staircase?” It was basically the only proper greeting when two Cranefish residents, past or present, met (Had they ever? Asami wasn’t sure. Nor could she remember how she learned about this tidbit, but the lore had persisted regardless). Every resident had their preferred staircase, and every resident would fight until their dying breath to defend their choice.

“Far,” Asami told her. The far staircase was the one that got the better afternoon sunlight and it was closer to her room.

“Damn,” Korra snapped her fingers in mock-disappointment, “I’m a near girl. Guess this is where we part then, can’t go turning my back on the near camp! Hey, before we go, here.” She dug a hand in one of her pants pockets and pulled out her phone. “Since Bolin can’t seem to help, put your number in. This was fun, we should hang out again, even if you have crap staircase preferences. And I’m kind of super free since I don’t have swim practices.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” said Asami, trying not to let her eyes widen as she took Korra’s phone. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given someone her number. Korra had already pulled up a blank contact spot and Asami quickly typed in her number, then her name. For a moment, she hovered over writing her last name, her face slipping into a frown.

“You okay?” Korra asked suddenly.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Finished.” She handed it back to Korra.

Korra smiled again. “Great! I’ll text you in a minute,” she turned to the near staircase hallway and started to limp away from Asami. Looking back over her shoulder, she waved. “Have a good night, Asami!”

“You too,” Asami said quietly, turning and walking down the hall to the far staircase. 

She climbed slowly, her mind going over the events of the day faster than the Satoracer could reach top speed. It seemed almost comical that less than ten hours ago she’d had the chai latte drench her in the middle of the kiosk and had been hiding in the shower. Now, here she was, climbing the last flight of stairs at nearly two in the morning, having not spent the night alone holed up with another book. There was nothing wrong with books, but spending time with a friend on a weekend night was a nice change of pace. 

Was Korra a friend? They barely knew each other, and yet Asami already found Korra incredibly easy to talk to and almost comforting to be around. She had been completely interested in their conversation the whole time, even when they were talking about the drone. That was something nobody, not even Opal, had ever done. Asami was always looking for the far off stare in someone else’s eye, the signal that she was talking too much about something they cared nothing about. Korra never had that stare, even though Asami was sure she only understood a quarter of her drone explanation. It made her smile to think about. Her stomach fluttered. She had lost count of how many smiles Korra had caused tonight.

_Hold up there, Sato_ , her head warned her heart as she got to her room and unlocked the door, _don’t go getting ahead of yourself, you just met her_.

Asami crossed the dark room and flicked on her reading lamp so that she could pull out a fresh pair of pajamas. Outside, the sky was a shrouded, inky black. She could see, as she replaced her clothes with pajamas and quickly braided her hair, little lights dotting the other dorms across the Quad where people were still awake. A few pairs of students dodged in and out of the buildings’ shadows. Asami’s phone vibrated on her pillow with a text from a new number. 

**_Near staircase is still better._ **

Chuckling, Asami pulled her duvet back and slid into bed before typing back a response.

_That remains to be seen. Night Korra, thanks again for the latte._

**_Sweet dreams Asami_** _._

With that text, Asami turned off her lamp, settled into bed, and lay smiling in the dark. Her head tried to protest, her heart tried to celebrate, but she ignored them both. When she fell asleep, she was still smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really appreciating the continued support! Always appreciate reviews as well, I love hearing your thoughts.
> 
> Disclaimer: Here comes some mechanical engineering jargon that I have only a basic grasp on.

Asami awoke full of restless energy. With a late night and an eventful Friday, she had expected to want nothing more than to finally curl up with that book she kept thinking about and while away the day. Instead, she felt wide awake from the moment her eyes opened, and could think of nothing worse than sitting in her dorm all day.

Therefore, at 9:07am, she had pulled on her mech-jeans (too stained to be useful in any other situation), a black tank top with an RCU long-sleeve over it, and a pair of boots. Opal wouldn’t be up for several hours, and certainly would not be in the mood for homework anyways, but Asami sent her a quick text to tell her to drink lots of water, that she would be in the lab, and did she want lunch or dinner later. 

It wasn’t unusual for Asami to be alone on a weekend morning, or even the rest of the day. More often than not, she was holed up in her room or the mech lab, the kiosk being too loud on the weekends. In the past she may have found herself in someone else’s bed on a Saturday morning, her head bleary and her memories foggy, but that hadn’t happened for quite a while. There were other ways of coping. 

Today, however, Asami couldn’t help but feel an oddly sharp pang of loneliness as she walked out of her room and into the empty hall, maneuvering her bag so she could pull on her coat as she went. Habitually, she turned to walk over to the far staircase but stopped after a couple of steps. 

_Are you serious?_ her mind complained at her hesitancy. 

_What kind of scientist would I be if I didn’t test all the possibilities? Maybe the near staircase is better_ , she thought back to herself. _And there’s only one way to find out_. Asami turned around and headed to the other staircase, stomach fluttering in what was becoming an increasingly familiar way. 

It was, at first walkthrough, basically the same as the far staircase: gray stairs, green walls, off-white railings. The chips in the paint and wear on the stairs from Cranefish’s phantom inhabitants looked exactly like they did on the far staircase. And, of course, it was totally empty. The pang of loneliness came back again as Asami opened the door onto the ground floor and made her way to the front of the building, but she ignored it. This was normal after all.

Outside was another chilly day in Republic City. A gentle wind stirred the warm-colored trees that dotted the Quad, picking up stray leaves in its wake and tossing about the curly lock of Asami’s hair that had once again escaped being pinned back. The sky looked gray, but harmless. Dampness still hung in the air, making Asami set a fast pace to the library, rubbing her hands together for warmth as she went. Maybe today she would ask for Bolin not to put her latte in a sleeve so that she could keep her hands warm on the way to the lab.

A strong gust of wind blew across the campus as she climbed the library steps, twisting her head to avoid it raking across her face. _Today of all days, I forgo the scarf_ , she thought grumpily, _maybe I’ll just go back afte--_

“Whoa, hey!” 

Asami skidded abruptly to a halt as she almost ran into the person coming out the door. “You know we need to stop running into each other when one of us is carrying drinks,” said Korra, smirking. 

“Hmm,” Asami said, recovering her composure quickly, “maybe I’m just out for revenge.”

Korra laughed. “I hope not, because it’d be your drink you spilled. Here,” she handed Asami one of the cups, “I was planning to break Cranefish tradition and surprise you at your room, but this works too. There’s cinnamon in there, but I also got a little baggy of extra in case you wanted more. The barista looked at me like I grew a platypus-bear bill.”

“She’s new. Bolin was telling Opal and me the other day not to scare her away with our weird orders,” Asami said, taking the drink and the baggy from Korra. “Thank you, Korra. This is really sweet.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Korra. “Actually, I was going to ask what you were up to today, you know, to keep with the breaking Cranefish tradition theme.”

“Oh, um, I was just heading to the mech lab.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool.”

“Do you want to come with me?” 

The words came out of Asami’s mouth before she could give them a second thought. She had already read Squeaky Joints, shared wolfbat time, and taken the wrong staircase, what was one more break from her normal routine? Especially if that included Korra. Asami couldn’t lie to herself: being a good scientist barely made up one percent of the reasons she took the near staircase.

Korra’s smile lit up the gloomy day. “Do I get to see the drone?” she asked.

“Well, you can see the drone designs at least,” Asami told her, reflecting her smile. She motioned to Korra, leading them both down the steps and away from the library, toward her other favorite place on campus.

~

“What’s this?”

“That’s linear algebra. It’s just part of the drone project. Basically everything here is for my Mechanical Design class.”

Bringing Korra to the lab was like letting an elephant rat loose in a restaurant’s dumpster. She was completely in awe, already into everything, her eyes round like coins and just as shiny. Currently she was fixated on the big chalkboard that took up most of the back wall in Asami’s cubicle. 

Every Mechanical Engineering major, also known as thirteen students, was given a workspace when they declared their major. An older student told Asami her freshman year that the spaces only used to be for seniors when the major was bigger, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Now all of them ended up in Bioengineering or Computer Science, something that RCU marketed heavily.

“Oh, yeah, _just_ linear algebra,” Korra snorted, squinting at the board. “Okay smarty pants, what’s _this_?” At random, she grabbed an object from Asami’s workspace and held it out to her. 

“ _That’s_ my hammer,” Asami chuckled.

“Genius,” said Korra in mock-awe, gazing at the hammer as if nothing so marvelous had ever been invented before. 

Rolling her eyes, Asami wandered over to the chalkboard and picked up her used bit of chalk. She had gone here to be useful and make headway with something, Korra didn’t change that. Even if she was hilariously distracting. 

“In all seriousness, what is this actually, besides magic math?” Korra asked, coming to stand next to Asami. Her blue eyes were following Asami’s hand as she hovered the chalk over the board, tracing her previous work before she could move forward. 

“Basically this is what my senior final project will be next year. I’m in Mechanical Design one, then I take the second part next semester and Senior Seminar my final year. Most people take it all one semester later, like Kuvira is doing,” Asami jerked her head over to the neighboring workspace, “but I went through the major a little fast, so I’m doing an independent study with my advisor and then I’ll join up with the other couple seniors in the seminar next year.”

“What’s the end goal, then?”

“Well, as I said, right now I’m in the design stages of this project. So first I have to present my designs, then next semester I present a prototype, bigger than the tiny one I told you about. And the end of the next year is when I actually have to present a working finished product to the department. Which is the drone. Something that could safely drop supplies without risking lives, maybe even save them.”

“Did the stuff going on with Gaipan spark this?” Korra asked.

For a second, Asami felt her heart sink. A lot of words fought in her throat at once before she swallowed them all back down. She was Asami Osaku here, Gaipan affected her like it affected any other student. “A little,” she murmured, adding a bit onto the bottom of the chalkboard. Still, so much of Asami Sato was in this project.

“Well, it looks really good.”

She paused and looked at Korra. Somehow, she had grown closer, close enough that Asami noted that she had freckles, and that she wasn’t staring at the math. Asami felt her face grow hot, no doubt becoming traitorously pink in the process.

“Even the magic math?” she asked quietly, forcing her eyes to stay locked with Korra’s and wondering if that was any better. 

Korra’s eyes fluttered and she replied, just as delicately, “Even that.”

The door to the mech lab opened and Asami nearly leapt to the ceiling. Suddenly, there was significant distance between her and Korra and the room sparked like a snapped wire still electrified. 

“I can’t stay, I just need to grab something!” rasped a familiar voice accompanied by fast, squeaking footsteps. Kuvira stopped when she saw Korra. “And I guess you didn’t really need company anyway.” 

She covertly raised one shapely black eyebrow at Asami, who gave a quick shake of her head in return. Clearing her throat in an anything but discrete manner, Asami gestured to Kuvira. “Korra, this is my friend Kuvira, she’s another Mech major. Kuvira, this is Korra, she’s my…”

“New friend,” Korra supplied, limping forward a little heavily to shake Kuvira’s hand, “I kind of dumped an entire latte on her and the rest is very recent history.”

Kuvira narrowed her eyes appraisingly, looking between Korra and Asami. “Is _this_ what Opal was blabbing about last night with _Missed Connections_?” Kuvira asked, pointing her long finger between the two of them.

“Probably,” Korra said at the same time that Asami groaned, “You read it too?”

Shrugging, Kuvira said, “Hey, it’s funny. And there’s always a stack left in the common room. Korra’s message has been the best so far, though. Anyway, I ran into Opal on the way over here and she said to tell you that dinner was a good idea.” Nodding in response, Asami fished her phone out of her pocket. “And,” Kuvira continued, picking up her pace again and walking over to her workspace, plucking something dark green off the desk, “I left my notebook here for Colonel Guan’s visit tomorrow.”

“Kuvira’s planning to join the United Forces as an engineer,” Asami explained to Korra after sending off her dinner confirmation to Opal and stowing her phone away again.

“Kuvira’s also about to be really rude and leave again,” Kuvira added, giving Asami and Korra a sympathetic smile as she began to back out of the workspace. “It was nice to meet you Korra.”

“You too,” Korra said as Kuvira opened the door again and left. 

With the shutting of the door came a more palpable current of electricity than before, like the snapped wire had charged everything in the room. Asami felt like her tongue had frozen, her mind only able to think about the moments before Kuvira had entered, unable to decide on whether or not her friend’s whirlwind appearance was good or bad. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be in control of her feelings and suddenly this person dumps a latte on her and all of her carefully built walls from years of practice and the desperate need to blend in have turned to sand and been blown away by one strong gust of autumn wind. 

Korra broke the silence first. “So, what time’s dinner?” she asked Asami, who looked back at her with eyes wide. She was only getting dinner with Opal. _Stupid, stupid, you’re spending all day with her and you didn’t even ask._

“Oh, um, six. I’m sorry, Korra, I didn’t mean to leave you out!” 

“Hey, hey,” Korra said, reaching over to place her hands on Asami’s shoulders and giving her a small smile, “don’t worry, that’s not what I meant! I actually have plans already, I just wanted to know what time so we wouldn’t cut anything too close. Mine are at six too, though.”

“What are you up to?” 

“Eh, same as I do almost every weekend. Do you know Tenzin, the head of my department?”

Actually, Asami knew him well. Or, at least, she knew of Tenzin and had met him. He used to be much more politically involved in Republic City, which led to associations with Future Industries as it rapidly expanded when Asami was younger, gaining major government contracts as it went. Eventually, the politics grew wearisome and Tenzin voiced his desire to spread knowledge rather than wheel and deal with the best (or worst) of them. 

Nonetheless, he had made a name for himself as a man of peace and unity, and many agreed that there was no one better to teach about history than the one who had done the most to preserve Air Nation culture as the world passed the so-called “old values” by. Asami had never run into him at RCU, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that was purposeful. She had nothing but respect for Tenzin; yet, the last time she had seen him had been on the second-worst day of her life, and she was sure he remembered that as much as she always would.

“I know of him,” Asami replied neutrally, “but I haven’t taken a class with him or anything.”

“Yeah,” said Korra, “well, he’s _kind of_ the reason I’m at RCU. His mom was Water Tribe, she and my parents were close. I was planning on sticking close to home for school -- I mean, the South Pole’s all I’ve ever known, it was scary to leave, you know? -- but he came down and talked to me about RCU and here I am. I started eating dinner with his family every weekend to keep the homesickness at bay freshman year, but it just became a thing. And tonight’s his daughter Jinora’s birthday so we’re kind of having this ‘Sparkle Makeup Fantastic Special Sleepover Festival.’ I’m not completely sure what that means but Jinora’s sister, Ikki, named it.”

Asami grinned. “That’s actually adorable, Korra,” she said. “Also, I hope you know I expect a sparkle makeup picture of you.”

“Of course you would,” Korra teased, throwing her arms up for dramatic effect.

It was only at that moment that Asami realized Korra had only just removed her hands.

~

Asami slowly picked her way from the mech lab to the dining hall for her dinner with Opal. The damp, chilly day had not shifted much as evening set in, and the wind still blew across campus, searching for openings in students’ many layers to slide in its sharp, stinging claws. This morning, Asami would have been bemoaning her predicament: optimistically forgoing her scarf, hoping for another bright autumn day before winter truly began to arrive. Perhaps that could happen later in the week, but not today. 

In any case, right now was not this morning, and Asami was wrapped in a large scarf gifted to her by Korra before they parted ways for the evening. It was thick and comfortable, leaving no space for the wind to intrude, and it made Asami smile like an absolute idiot. Her head was still making feeble attempts to talk sense to her. _You’ve only known her two days, you never do this, you can’t be wooed with a latte and a scarf_. 

Asami knew all this. Every involuntary blush and thought that kept crossing her mind sent her heart into a spiraling tailspin where it sunk as it bloomed. Asami prided herself on being an incredibly rational person, maybe even rivaling Kuvira, and the thought of Korra as someone beyond simply a new friend was terrifying as much as it was exciting. 

There had been others in the past. Boys and girls alike, two of whom Asami had had real feelings for besides the need for a specific kind of outlet. But even they were different from Korra. _Maybe_ , Asami thought, pulling on her rational side as she tried to compose herself as not a complete puddle before entering the Tub (the Tienhai Union Building, affectionately known as the Tub, home of the main dining hall, post room, and the annual campus favorite Scrub-in-the-Tub event put on by the med students), _maybe it’s because I’m not in the driver’s seat._

She thought back to when they were leaving the lab, right as Korra gave her the scarf she’d had in her bag. 

“Trust me,” Korra had said, draping the scarf around Asami, “it gets way colder at the South Pole. I just carry this around to prop my knee up right now. There, some blue in your color palette!”

“The horror!” Asami joked as both girls laughed.

For a minute, they hovered, still laughing while Asami shifted the scarf more comfortably around her. “Hey, uh,” Korra hesitated and licked her lips before continuing, “uh, what are you doing next weekend? You know, for All Spirits’ Day?”

Asami laughed again, this time nervously. “Nothing special,” she said, “it’s...it’s not really my favorite day, so I don’t go out or anything like that.”

“Oh! No, I mean, I wasn’t inviting you to a party or anything. I haven’t really done like that this year anyway, with the knee and just...over it, maybe? Sorry, I’m rambling again. I just...well, if you weren’t going out, maybe we could watch movers or something? Together?”

“Like a...?”

“Night in,” Korra said quickly, her brown face reddening a little, “together. With movers. And maybe dinner? Not a Sparkle Makeup Fantastic Special Sleepover Festival or anything, but it could be fun, right?”

Asami bit her lip and caught Korra’s eyes, which looked somewhere between hopelessly panicked and completely eager. She nodded. 

“Yeah?” Korra asked, too slow in hiding the note of triumph in her voice. 

“I mean, I _really_ wanted the Sparkle Special Fantastic Fantasy Beauty thing--”

“We’ll work on your memorization skills too.”

“--but that sounds like a lot of fun. Let’s do it,” Asami finished, grinning.

Asami wasn’t in the driver’s seat then, though she didn’t feel like a passenger either. It was nicer than that, somehow. People included her, she never actually felt like an outcast. Only someone in self-imposed exile. Kuvira and Opal always invited her out when they were going, always made an effort, but this was different. This was someone who wanted to spend time with Asami in the way Asami wanted to spend time too. It made her feel comfortable, and excited rather than feeling compelled by some weird college-student-must-not-waste-time duty. And she liked it.

As Asami entered the Tub, her phone rang. _If this is Opal telling me that five minutes early is already late..._ Asami thought sternly, glancing in the window to the dining hall as she fished out her phone, expecting to see Opal staring straight back at her.

Instead, there was no Opal on the line, but an all-too familiar number all the same.

_This can’t be good_ , Asami thought, ducking down a hall that came off the far side of the dining hall with smaller conference rooms attached and answering her phone.

“Hi, Zhu Li,” said Asami.

“ _Good evening, Miss Sato_ ,” the neat and trim voice on the other end of the line greeted.

“Really? Titles?” sighed Asami, “Not to mention, it’s the weekend.”

“ _My apologies, force of habit. I’ve been on the phone most of the day.”_

Asami nodded into the phone, feeling the familiar sense of distaste with Future Industries’ work culture. In a warped effort to apparently appease her protests at becoming CEO, the Board of Directors agreed to delay her full transition to CEO of Future Industries until after she finished college. Which meant not working on Saturdays. _And sometimes being able to pretend that I have no more responsibilities than a medical drone._

“Sorry to hear that,” Asami said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, “What’s going on?”

_“It’s just a part of the job. Anyway, would you be able to look over some documents tonight or tomorrow? There have been some small developments with the Inter-Rail project that came up and I thought you should also take a look so that you know what’s going on. I’m sorry to have to dump this on you today, I know you just finished your midterms. How did those go?”_

Asami stifled a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, sure, I can do that. It’s good to hear everything is moving along, projects like this usually just keep getting stalled.”

_“And the midterms?”_ Zhu Li pressed.

“Midterms went fine, my professor in Mechanical Design was really pleased with my progress. Grades probably come out next week.”

_“Glad to hear it,”_ Zhu Li told her. 

It was in the tone that suggested the conversation was ending and Asami made a split second decision to press it a minute further. “Zhu Li, can I actually ask you something while I have you on the line?”

_“Of course.”_

Asami bit her lip before speaking. “Does--how much do the professors at RCU know?”

There was a pause on the other end and for a brief second Asami worried that she had said something worrisome. She had spent a lot of time with Zhu Li and Varrick in her life, but there was always some sort of invisible line that stopped them from ever getting too personal past the surface-level. The few times they had crossed that line had been memorable experiences, not all of them good. Nobody ever pushed the envelope that strongly, simply shoving their feelings into a box and keeping a tight lid on it, never discussing it if avoidance was possible.

_“Your mother was always adamant about your privacy and Varrick and I have always respected and agreed with that decision. When you said you wanted to go to college like everyone else, we knew privacy would extend to that too. It just became more prudent after everything that happened, but the necessary people know. Why, did someone say something to you?”_

“No, nothing like that,” Asami told her quickly. “It’s just, I met...this girl...anyway, her family is close with Tenzin and his family. Close like she goes to Air Temple Island for dinner on the weekends. So I just didn’t know...” she trailed off, waving her other hand errantly.

_“As far as I’m aware, Tenzin does not know you go to school at RCU.”_

“He would if he saw me, I guess.”

_“Even if that were the case, you know Tenzin. He would never do something to make you uncomfortable. Quite frankly, the plan to keep your privacy was never made with the Tenzins of the world in mind.”_

Asami sighed. “Thanks, Zhu Li. Tell Varrick I say hi. And not to cause some international crisis with the Fire Nation.”

_“I’m sure he’s already planning one,”_ Zhu Li replied, _“And Asami? Remember that your identity and privacy is your discretion too. Varrick and I are proud of you however you choose to live your life.”_

The invisible line gave a little wobble. 

“Thanks, Zhu Li,” she said again.

_“Of course,”_ Zhu Li ended. Then she hung up. Asami listened to the dead air for a moment before stowing her phone away and walked out of the hallway toward the entrance to the dining hall. Now she actually was late, unexplainably so. 

Thinking about Opal made her mind roll over the discretion Zhu Li was talking about. Opal was as close a friend as Asami had, but it still always felt like she was holding her at arms’ length. Deep down, she could admit that she was still worried about whether or not Zhu Li was being truthful. Would she and Varrick really support Asami no matter what she chose to tell people? Chose to do with her life? 

Yes, they had been there for her through a lot, even becoming her guardians for when her father was taken away. Or, had chosen his own fate. They were in her life more than he was even before that, really the only steady adults she’d had once her mother was gone. But so much of their help was with Future Industries in mind. Playing the roles of advisors and mentors. There were times, like just before, that they were almost playing the role of confidantes as well. Only surface-level, though. Never getting to what was underneath, because nobody wanted to know what was there. On the surface, all was how it should be. 

Asami had always tried to convince herself that that was enough, but hanging over her head was the very plain truth that it would never be enough. Not that they couldn’t replace her mom, but that there was always fine print in their relationship. They had been her guardians, but they were just as much Future Industries’ guardians as well.

_Still, you don’t have any other options_ , she thought, making it to the dining hall entrance. All she could do was force back the inevitable, focusing on the now instead. 

She swiped into the dining hall with her ID and had no trouble spotting Opal at a high-top table. Her friend wasted no time giving her a textbook Opal greeting. 

“Since when do you wear _blue?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, we finally met Kuvira! 
> 
> Also if anyone wants to talk more expansively about LoK or this story or your story or needs someone to lend an ear, find me on Tumblr @sittingonyourfloor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy and thank you so much for your reviews and those of you who have reached out on Tumblr and Reddit. As has been the pattern, I am hoping to update each Monday for this fic.

Sullen weekend clouds gave way to chinks of blue sky as the week wore on. By Friday, the sky was a pure blue with only one stray cloud that Asami could see as she and Kuvira emerged from their Linear Algebra class, eyes stinging from staring at their professor’s notes as they dutifully copied every last number and symbol down. She glanced up, relishing in soft light the sun provided. A cool, lazy breeze rolled across her face, teasing the hem of the blue scarf wrapped around her neck. Sunny days no longer meant warm ones.

“So,” Kuvira started casually as they walked to the library. They were meeting Opal for an end-of-the-week-Asami-doesn’t-do-All-Spirits’-Weekend-with-us coffee. 

“So?” Asami repeated warily. She could hazard a fair guess on where this was headed. 

“Korra?”

_Yep._

“What about her?” asked Asami. Despite knowing about her plans to spend the night watching movers with Korra tonight, Asami’s friends had remained surprisingly mum. She knew it was only a matter of time before they asked for more information, but, perhaps a bit protectively, she hadn’t offered anything more than initially mentioning the plans in passing.

“Hey, it’s your personal thing, I respect that,” rasped Kuvira, holding up her hands in surrender, “but Opal’s going to ask about her anyway and I just wanted to do it first so that you could give me the _non-Opal_ version.” 

When Asami didn’t speak, they walked silently for another moment before Kuvira stopped abruptly, swinging around to face Asami and touching her wrist to stop her too. “Hey,” she said again, her gravelly voice gentle and her eyes rounding out from their usual narrowed look, “you know I’ve got your back, right?”

Asami nodded mutely. 

“Good. That’s all we need to talk about then,” said Kuvira evenly. 

Asami looked up at her friend, quirking her mouth to the side. Sometimes she wondered if anyone else saw this side of Kuvira: the mushy, cute side under all that gruff and gravel. “I just don’t know what to say yet,” she told Kuvira. “I mean, it’s just movers.”

“Yeah, well _just movers_ looks a lot different from across the mech lab,” Kuvira teased as they started walking again, “and _just movers_ probably wouldn’t have involved Korra hanging out with us for homework last night or after lab on Tuesday. You _never_ invite people to homework nights.”

Blushing, Asami tried to bury her face further into Korra’s scarf. Remembering whose scarf she was wearing did not help. 

During the week, she had seen Korra several times in passing (never actually in Cranefish despite her newfound habit of taking the near staircase), hung out twice as Kuvira said, and talked on the phone a few times despite only being a floor apart. It was all fairly benign, at least, nothing that had made Asami’s stomach do backflips the way it had before Kuvira had come into the lab last Saturday. Occasionally, the phone conversations had perhaps danced along the edge of what she would call benign, making Asami’s smile giddy and her stomach flutter, but maybe those feelings were just one( _okay, four_ )-offs? And more than that, Asami found herself getting just a little extra excited whenever she and Korra ran into each other on campus as opposed to what she would feel unexpectedly running into Kuvira. In the middle of her first class today she nearly lost her stoic “I’m-not-actually-looking-at-my-phone” composure when she saw the text message from Korra that read, “ **Still on for tonight, right?** ”

Rationality still had a place in her heart, however, and all of these instances were followed up with a stern reminder that _nothing_ had happened...yet. Asami had had plenty of mover nights with Kuvira and Opal in the past. Yet when they shot glances at each other or bumped shoulders or confirmed what their plans were for the evening, it felt like just a normal occurrence between friends. Asami expected it rather than looking forward to it or even actively seeking it out the way she did when she kept using the near staircase to no avail. 

“Anyway,” Kuvira finished, wrenching Asami from her thoughts as they climbed the library stairs, “I like Korra, Sams. She’s cool. Wing and Wei have talked about her before, too. You’d think she was Raava or something. And you guys seem like a good pair, even if it actually is just movers. I just want you to know that’s there under all the teasing, okay?”

“Thanks,” said Asami, “you’re a good friend, you know that?”

A sly smile came over Kuvira’s face. “Just don’t let anyone else know that,” she said, bumping their shoulders together, “then they’ll all want a piece of me.”

Together they walked through the vestibule and turned for the kiosk, delectable, warm aromas immediately wreathing around them. Lots of students were packed in today, all chattering excitedly about their plans for the weekend, their costumes, the release of midterm grades (Asami had achieved top marks), and, annoyingly, the most recent edition on Loose Lips or whatever it was. 

Asami hadn’t read another word of it. The whole idea was so ridiculous, so stupid that people actually thought they would somehow form real connections from these vague messages.

And yet, the little paper that called her Green Eyes sat tucked away between two books on her shelf, the crinkles smoothed out and crinkled again from whenever she had picked it up and moved it. But she wasn’t re-reading it or anything, though. Not really. It was just there, it just hadn’t made it to the bin yet. And if she happened to see Korra’s message on the page every once in a while when she moved it to a new spot, well, she couldn’t control that. 

Opal was leaning her elbows on the counter, eagerly chatting up Bolin, who was pouring hot water into a medium cup with one hand and scratching something down on his notepad with the other. “And what about the one from this morning’s edition?” Opal was saying to him.

“You mean the one about the pigtail braids? Believe it or not, I think they’re in my Poetry class. There was this girl yesterday with those exact braids and one of the message boxes is right near class.”

“No way!” Opal gasped.

Asami and Kuvira each slid into stools next to the pair. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Squeaky Wheels,” Asami grumbled, looking between the pair of them. 

Opal stuck her tongue out. “Asami, you’re not even trying at this point! Come on, say it with me: _Missed. Connections_.”

“ _Useless. Drivel.”_

“You’re one to talk,” Opal chided, “don’t you, um, hmm, I don’t know...oh! Have a _date_ from _Missed Connections_?”

“It’s _just movers_ ,” Kuvira responded, leaning over Asami and theatrically popping air quotes around her words. 

Bolin either missed the exchange or feigned complete ignorance. He slid Opal’s hot tea over to her and then reached behind the counter and pulled out two more ready-made drinks, handing them to Asami and Kuvira in turn. “ _Medium chai latte with soy milk, make it hot and you never add enough cinnamon so let me do it myself so here’s your own personal shaker_ and a black coffee. Opal told me your order, Kuvira,” Bolin said, grabbing each of their IDs.

“Thanks,” Kuvira said while Asami inspected the cinnamon shaker. It had a printed label like all the others in the kiosk, except this one read “ASAMI OSAKU - CINNAMON.” She beamed at Bolin, who chivalrously tipped his hat in return as he handed her back her ID. Kuvira scrutinized her sister’s cup. “Hey, Opal, haven’t you run out of teas yet? What’s this one?” 

“Jasmine and ginger. I have a few left after this,” said Opal, taking a sip. “Oh, Kuvi,” Bolin snorted at the nickname before being silenced with a glare from Kuvira, “Mom said she’s sending care packages out today. She said she told you but to remind you daily so you don’t forget to pick it up for a week again.”

Asami raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of her latte. Kuvira looked mutinous. “It was _one_ time during the middle of finals week! And what kind of person mails fresh fruit?” she groaned, taking a long, moody swig of her coffee. While Bolin hid his laugh behind his hand while he went to help more customers.

As Asami drank more of her latte, she lifted her wrist to check the watch she had slipped on this morning. Just a little thing, just to help her track the day. Not that she was waiting anything impatiently but-- “Mm,” she said around her cup, “I didn’t realize it was already four thirty.”

She scooted off her stool, pulling her jacket back on and gathering up her things. 

“But we didn’t finish talking!” Opal whined in protest.

Reassuringly, Kuvira put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, sis, we know her whole schedule. She can’t hide forever.”

“Great,” Asami deadpanned, zipping up her jacket as Kuvira’s face cracked into a malevolent smile. “Just don’t start throwing rocks at my window tonight or something.”

“Nah, we’re not that cruel,” Kuvira said, her smile morphing into an encouraging one. “Have fun.”

“And enjoy the movers!” Opal added. 

Asami smiled back to them both and grabbed her drink, waving to Bolin as she headed out the door and back into the chilly afternoon.

~

Even after living in Cranefish all of last year and now this year, Asami had never been on the second floor. Nobody was actually exaggerating when they said that no student in Cranefish had ever met another. To go to another Cranefish student’s dorm room and actually hang out? Well, that was simply unheard of. 

Cranefish was no more desolate than usual (so, completely), but Asami was certain that there were significantly less people in their rooms than normal, so many no doubt out celebrating All Spirits’ Day with their friends. For her own da -- _evening. Evening hang out_ \-- for her own evening hang out, Korra had told her to dress comfortably and bring a blanket, that she would take care of the rest. Therefore, Asami was making her way down the far staircase, a bag slung over her shoulder with a dark red fleece blanket, her phone, and water bottle stuffed inside, while she sported an oversized black sweater, her favorite red leggings, and her glasses perched on her nose. 

Kuvira’s tease of “just movers” had been lingering in her head since she left the kiosk and Asami could feel her stomach performing some sort of choreographed dance with her heart as she walked down the second floor hall to Korra’s room. _Stop panicking_ , she tried to reassure herself _, it’s just Korra_. _Just be yourself like you’ve been doing. She’s already your friend, that’s the hard part, right?_

The door to Korra’s room, number 207, had little paper snowflakes pasted all over it. Asami smiled, realizing they were all hand-cut. They were so intricate, each delicately and uniquely patterned so that they looked like fine lace more than paper. She moved to trace a gently curved one that caught her eye and her bag slid off her shoulder, thumping into the door and jolting Asami out of her reverie. Promptly, Korra opened the door.

“Hey,” she said, “right on time--are you okay?”

“Th--uh,” Asami stumbled through her words, “they’re good. Your snowflakes on the door. I like paper.” 

_Way to go, Sato_ : _“I like paper.”_

“Oh, thanks!” said Korra. “Here, wanna come in? Make a little bit of Cranefish history?” She pulled the door open wider and gestured Asami inside.

Korra’s room was roomy and rectangular, with a soft blue and white carpet in the center. The window that pointed out to the Quad was cracked open, chilly night air wafting through it with the occasional breeze. Her bed was tucked against the wall on the right side, adorned with a blue duvet and a patterned blanket folded at the foot of it. Next to the bed was her dresser. Bits of clothing were peeping out from the drawers, not letting them close completely. On top of the dresser were various knickknacks and a framed picture of Korra standing next to an absolutely enormous polar bear dog. Asami made a mental note to ask her about it later.

The rest of the room had the distinct appearance of being neatened up very quickly. There was a pile of unstraightened papers on the corner of the desk where a bag of takeout was also sitting, an unsteady column of textbooks and binders on the desk chair, and the trash can underneath the desk was missing a bag. Asami could virtually map Korra’s recent movements throughout the room. Her jacket was hanging on the back of the desk chair and her shoes were a footstep apart close to the back wall of her room. A book lay still open on the rumpled bed as if she had been leaning her elbows on it, standing while waiting for Asami to knock. The thought of Korra anxiously waiting for her was a surprisingly flattering one.

From by the door, Korra was saying, “So, uh, I got noodles from Fan’s like we talked about. A few choices, nothing fancy. Maybe next time I’ll take you to Narook’s -- have you ever been? -- best Southern Water Tribe food in Republic City. But, yeah, noodles, then movers?”

“Sounds great,” said Asami.

They took turns trying the four different small servings of noodles Korra had bought, chatting about nothing and stealing glances as they ate. Asami, who could barely call herself a Republic City native, having spent little of her life actually living in the city until a few years ago, had never had Fan’s noodles before. It was the famous campus haunt of undergrads, graduates, and faculty. “These are delicious,” she said for the fifth time as they sat cross legged on the floor.

Korra chuckled. “So I’ve heard,” she replied, “have you had the fire noodles yet?” She offered up the container she was currently eating from.

“Yes, I think those are my favorite actually, but I needed a break before my ears started smoking.” 

Both girls laughed at that and a large group joined in raucously from down below in the Quad. They seemed to pass directly under Korra’s window, shouting and chattering as they roved past. Asami jumped at the sudden noise and then promptly dropped her eyes, stirring her noodles absently. She heard the window shut and then the thud as Korra sat back down ungracefully, not even realizing she had stood up.

“Thanks,” Asami murmured.

“Anytime,” said Korra. For a few minutes, they ate in silence. Rather, Korra picked at her food and Asami counted her noodles.

“Hey, Asami,” Korra said gently after another minute, “is it okay for me to ask…”

Asami looked up at her and smiled weakly. “You don’t have to ask, Korra. I don’t mind talking about it, I just didn’t want to ruin the night.” 

“You--you’re not,” said Korra quickly, “I just...want to make sure you’re okay. And do anything to make you more comfortable.”

Asami bit her lip at Korra’s sweet words, setting her noodles down and nodding to herself. “When I was sixteen, my mother was murdered. I...I was there,” said Asami. 

To her credit, Korra kept a straight face as she said this. Most people thought that making outraged noises or immediately consoling her was a good thing to do, but she generally preferred the matter-of-fact approach. “They never caught the person who did it,” she continued, “they were wearing a horrible mask and I couldn’t identify them. Honestly, even right after it happened I could barely remember what the mask looked like. It took a big toll...my dad...wasn’t really around to begin with either. I’m okay, or, you know, as okay as I am, but things...sounds, sudden movements, stuff like that, it’s not always easy for me. That’s why I was the way I was with the latte stuff. I mean, I can deal with it most of the time. But sometimes…sometimes I just let my guard down a little too much. Anyway, All Spirits’ Day isn’t exactly my favorite. The costumes, the jump scares, the horror movers...the entertainment part of it isn’t very entertaining for me. Usually I just stay in bed and read, though, so doing this tonight is actually pretty good progress.”

Solemnly, Korra nodded. “What was her name?” she asked.

“Yasuko,” Asami said, picking up her noodles again and taking another bite. Korra followed suit, not asking any more questions. “Sorry,” she said after another moment, grabbing the lid to her bowl, “I feel like I actually have now effectively ruined the mood.”

“Oh, no, not at all, Asami! You can’t ruin the mood just by answering a question I asked. If anything, I have a lot of respect for you being able to tell that story.”

Asami gave Korra a small smile in gratitude. “Thanks for not acting like it was the end of the world. Most people think doing that will make me happier or something. You--uh,” Asami continued hesitantly, “you make me feel really at ease. I’m actually starting to be more grateful that you dumped that latte all over me in the first place.”

At that Korra laughed and Asami tried to hide the fact that her own words had made her blush, ducking her head as she pressed down the lid on her noodle container. “Hey,” said Korra in a low voice, her hand covering Asami’s as she slipped the covered noodles from her grasp, “why don’t we build a mover fort?”

~

Korra had significantly more pillows and blankets stowed around her room than Asami had noticed at first glance. She insisted, as she expertly crafted an enormous, cozy blanket lean-to from her bed posts to the far edge of the carpet, that it was a Water Tribe thing. Once finished, they crawled into it, Korra having already set up the triple black-and-white mover feature she checked out from the library for them, and spread Asami’s throw blanket over their laps. Their backs sat comfortably against the pillows Korra had made into a soft mock-headboard. With forethought, Asami suggested turning off the overhead light and leaving on Korra’s reading lamp instead, giving them some true mover ambience, albeit much cozier.

“I have to hand it to you, this is potentially the best fort I’ve ever seen,” Asami said as the first mover started, one of the many Nuktuk ones from years ago. She was pretty sure that the RAs in Cranefish had advertised this one for a mover night nobody showed up to when it was still warm out and they were still optimistic.

“Hey, if you can make a tent from animal skin, you can make a fort from blankets,” Korra replied, waving a casual hand from under the blanket and then dropping it to her side, on the blanket between the two girls. Nuktuk appeared in the movie, sneaking across the screen to spy on the evil Unalaq’s secret lair. “I’ve always thought that Nuktuk looks exactly like Bolin. It’s almost uncanny,” said Korra, “When I met him last year in the dining hall for the first time, I nearly choked on my food. It was like seeing my childhood come to life. I mean, my uncle’s name is coincidentally also Unalaq and he lives at the North Pole, so it’s seriously my childhood. Though I don’t think my grandparents realized what they were doing when they named him.”

Asami laughed. “I’ve actually thought the same thing before. Well, not the childhood part but the rest of it. Bolin says he doesn’t see it.”

“I know! I told him he needs glasses.”

They fell into silence, watching as Nuktuk fought off Unalaq’s forces with his trusty companions, saving Ginger in the process and bestowing a passionate kiss upon her before she was inevitably kidnapped again, this time by several mecha-tanks. 

Asami was barely focusing on the mover, though her eyes were glued to it like Korra’s were. The air in the room felt thick, laced with a tension that she could easily call up from the mech lab last Saturday. Korra hadn’t removed her hand from her side, palm turned slightly toward Asami so her fingers stretched that way as well, and it did not go unnoticed. Her head’s gears were whirring several times too fast.

_It’s just movers. Just a hand. Some people are just comfortable like that._

_Well you don’t have to_ take _her hand. What if you just scratched your head or something and let your hand fall in between the two of you next to hers? Just to see what happens._

_That’s the lamest idea you’ve had all night. Worse than “I like paper.” And what if she doesn’t even like girls? What if you’re thinking about this completely wrong?_

_Asami, you’re sharing a blanket with her. In a pillow fort. Alone in her room. In Cranefish. Cranefish! Just do it!_

_Lots of friends share blankets sitting a few inches apart! Opal falls asleep on my shoulder all the time._

_Opal doesn’t leave her hand between the two of you in an awkward position. Opal doesn’t--_

Korra moved and Asami’s thoughts froze as if they had been hit by a floodlight while robbing the Republic City International Bank. The girl shifted against the pillows, rolling out her shoulders and sighing as she settled into a more comfortable position which involved her arm now much closer to Asami’s than before. Her hand still curled up between the two of them.

Nuktuk was outside another Unalaq hideaway. Inside, Ginger was being threatened with a mind-erasing beam. _Just do it!_ her mind shouted again. Nuktuk flexed his muscles. Asami surreptitiously reached up and slowly brushed the hair from her face. As Nuktuk wound up to kick in the evil lair’s door, Asami finished brushing her hair away. She let her hand drop as he burst into the room with a loud clang and felt other fingers brush against hers. Both girls audibly stiffened.

_Raava help me._

She’d misjudged how much space was left between her thigh and Korra’s open hand. 

Now, their little fingers brushed each other and Asami’s heart was thumping traitorously in her chest. She was certain her face was bright red by this point, thank goodness for turning the lights off. Every alarm sound she had ever heard was going off in her head as she fought her overwhelming flight response to leave her hand exactly where it was.

Seconds seemed to drag by like eons. Every heartbeat took an age. Asami couldn’t even figure out if she was breathing. 

Then, she felt it. Tentatively, Korra stretched her little finger out and around Asami’s. With the tiniest of stolen glances, Asami could see that Korra’s jaw was stiff, her eyes unblinkingly staring at the mover.

Cautiously, she slid their fingers a bit further together. For a moment, both girls paused again, frozen with their interlocking fingers between them and Unalaq making a speech to the tied up Nuktuk on the screen. Asami took a breath.

They moved at the same time, then. No more tentative overtures forward, instead their hands now fully coming together. Korra’s hand was soft and warm, her fingers wrapped comfortably around Asami’s long, dainty ones and her thumb came up to stroke over Asami’s knuckles. Inexplicably, she thought about how rough her hand must feel from all the work she’s done in the lab recently. Did Korra mind? People always expected her hands to be gentle and unblemished. What if that’s what Korra thought? What then?

Asami’s heart was pounding. She sat ramrod straight, although her breathing had at least somewhat restarted as Korra’s thumb continued its methodic brushing over her knuckles. While Nuktuk was punching out three of Unalaq’s henchmen, Asami stole another glance at Korra, only to see that the girl was no longer watching the film. In a fit of bravery fueled in no small part by a gentle squeeze of Korra’s hand, Asami turned to catch her gaze in the dim, blue-hued light of the fort.

The Nuktuk fight continued in the background. Korra continued to stroke Asami’s knuckles. Asami continued to hold Korra’s hypnotic gaze. In the midst of it all, the space between them was shrinking. 

Triumphant music played in the mover. Korra was getting closer. Asami’s automatically dropped her gaze to Korra’s lips and back up again. The stroking over her knuckles stopped. Even in this light, Asami could have counted the freckles that dotted the other girl’s nose. Her eyes searched Korra’s. She was certain her heartbeat was audible by now. 

The mover music faded away in the background as they got infinitesimally closer to each other and Korra tilted her head gently to one side. “Is this okay?” the girl murmured, her lips almost brushing Asami’s with the question. 

“Yes,” Asami breathed. The space between them faded away too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, all of Asami's different titles for the "Missed Connections" newsletter has been the hardest part of writing this so far...


End file.
